Call Me an Uber
by Bellatlas
Summary: Peter calls Tony for help after out drinking, and Tony can't shake the feeling that something must be wrong if a good kid like Peter is drinking at 16. Post snap. Irondad. One-shot


**So sorry to republish this. Had to take it down and re upload due to parts of the story not going through and getting jumbled last time. Hope you all enjoy!**

Tony thinks he's sick at first. He looks off balance and his cheeks are flaming red as he stumbles in at three in the morning.

"You good, Pete?"

It's the strange shock of fear in his eyes along with the stupid twitching grin that he's trying _so hard_ to keep off of his face that gives it away.

"I-uh… I'm good. I think up now." His face twists in confusion. "I mean. I don't- I _didn't_ think you'd still be up now. Sorry. Tired and uh… what's the word… tied tongue? Tongue-tied. That's it."

Tony stares at him for a moment, dumbfounded. "Are... are you _drunk_?"

The stupid grin melts off of his face in an instant and Tony can _see _him try to sober up. See the cogs in his head so desperately trying to turn. Peter wasn't expecting to get caught. And he especially wasn't expecting to get called out if he was.

Behind Tony's cool exterior, his heart is racing. What does he do? He remembers being Peter's age. Thinking all about how fun it was, how adult he felt. That they actual adults just didn't remember what it was like to be so young. That he'd _never_ be like them. And, the thought that hurts the most- he remembers rebelling to spite them, just a bit. If only he'd known where it would land him one day.

He gets it now. He gets everything: why his parents were so mad, so concerned. And he's completely ill-prepared and floundering with how to deal with it himself.

"I-I-I'm _not_ drunk, Mr Stark, I'm just-"

Tony cuts him off. "Cut the crap, kid. Believe me. I know drunk when I see it."

Peter opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat and he shuts his mouth back closed with a clack.

"Is this your first time drinking?"

Peter still looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he deliberates whether to admit everything yet. "Yeah? I mean no? I mean… I had some of the wine at church for communion when I was little."

Tony presses his lips together. _Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh. _This was supposed to be _serious. _That's how he's resolved to go about this: Cool, but _serious._

Hard as he may try, though, he can't help the small snort that makes its way past. Peter's a good kid. Even drunk and wildly disobedient, he's still a good kid.

"So. You're the stupid kind of drunk, then."

Peter shoots Tony a sour look. "I _am not!_"

"Right. So, care to explain to me how showing up at your boss's house at three in the morning, drunk out of your mind, and entirely underage is a smart idea then?"

"Well, I mean… when you put it like that…" He visibly shrinks in on himself, perhaps only now realizing the gravity of what he's doing.

"I don't really see any other way to put it."

Peter shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at the floor. "I mean, Michelle and I were hanging out. And then I got a text from May asking why I wasn't back yet, even though I thought she'd be asleep. And I couldn't go home like this while she's awake because she'd know… So… I just told her I was staying here in the lab tonight and well… was kinda hoping that if I passed out on the cot in the lab that… that you'd buy that story, too. "

Tony probably _would_ have bought that story if it weren't for the fact that _he_ was up late working in the lab and saw him stumble in, and the thought scares him a bit if he's being perfectly honest. What if this _isn't _the first time. There had been a lot of nights when he'd stay up so late working on the suit that Tony insisted he just sleep on the cot in the lab, and May, while not particularly pleased, had become rather accustomed to the situation.

"So, you'd rather risk getting fired than getting grounded?"

Peter's eyes go wide and all of the color drains from his face in an instant.

"Mr. Stark, no, please-"

"I'm not firing you!" Tony quickly corrects. "I'm just saying- it's stupid."

"Okay." Peter breathes, regaining some of his color now that the threat of losing his Spider-man gig is off the table. "You're right. Sorry. I'll just… go back home. Sorry."

Tony rolls his eyes. "No. Not like this. You're already here. Just… get some sleep."

Peter pauses and seems to debate for a second before making his way towards the cot in the lab.

"Ohh no you don't." Tony grabs him by the shoulders and spins him around. "You can go sleep on the _couch_. No drunks in the lab." Of course, Tony himself has broken this rule… many _many_ times. But, the kid doesn't need to know that.

"M'kay," Peter mumbles, and curls up on the couch outside the lab like a cat. "Promise you're not mad?"

Tony sighs. "No, kid. I'm not mad."

Peter squints at him, waiting for the 'I'm just dissapointed,' but it never comes.

"I was your age once, too, you know."

"Yeah, like a billion years ago."

"Don't push your luck." Tony may have been Peter's age once, too. But, he was never quite like _Peter._ Never as pure. And, despite having been through a lot by his age, it wasn't comparable to what Peter's been through. Not by a long shot.

Tony hesitates. He's ill-equipped to be any sort of psychologist, but can't help but stop in the doorway of the living room before returning to the lab. "Hey. So… I know you're probably just having fun with your friends and doing teenage stuff and such, but like… if you, uh, ever actually have something wrong, or need someone to talk to… um. Lemme know."

Peter lets out a puff of air. Not quite a laugh, but halfway. "Just having fun with my friends, Mr. Stark. Don't worry"

"Tony," he corrects, but he nods and leaves Peter to get some rest.

When Peter wakes up in the morning, memories cloudy and head pounding, there's a glass of water, two Advil, and a sticky note left for him on the table. All it reads is: _Don't let it happen again, _and Peter thinks he'd rather crawl into a hole and die than let it happen again.

* * *

Only, it does happen again. Not a month later, Tony gets a call. At one in the morning. From Peter's suit.

His heart leaps out of his chest. If the _suit_ is calling him, and not Peter's cell phone something utterly catastrophic must have happened. But, when he answers, it's not Karen, but Peter himself.

"Heyyy Mr Stark."

Tony knows that drawl. He'd know it anywhere. "You're either dying or drunk. And I honestly don't know which one I'd prefer right now." If he answered with the latter, he very well might be both by the end of the night, at least after Tony got his hands on him.

"No. No, I'm neither. I uh. I just needed a quick favor? If that's okay?"

"You woke me up. At one in the morning. For a _favor?"_

Peter pauses on the other end of the line. "Yes?"

"This had better be good."

"I-I was just wondering if you could call me an Uber? I'll pay for it and everything! I just… can't call one myself?"

"Uh…" Of all the requests that Peter could have made, this isn't one that Tony anticipated. "Why can't you call one? Or swing? That's kind of your thing. You're spider boy."

"Man," Peter corrects, and Tony rolls his eyes so far back that they hurt. "And uh… I kinda don't have the web shooters and got locked out of my phone?"

"You… you got locked out of your own phone?" That explains why he's using the suit to call, he supposes.

"I _swear_ I was putting the password in right! Someone must have changed it. It's 882946. Always has be- _oh wait no that's my laptop password!"_

There's a dumbfounded silence between them that's only broken by a muffled "goddamnit" from Peter.

"Tell me again about how you're not drunk? And- Christ, Peter, on a Tuesday? Really?"

Peter sighs. "I'm sorry! Can you please just help me out here?"

"Why can't your friends call one for you?"

"You're making this needlessly difficult."

"You woke me up at one in the morning," Tony counters. "You're making _everything_ needlessly difficult."

"Ugh," Peter groans. "I'm… not exactly with anyone right now?"

Tony's mouth opens, but he can't manage to find any words for a second. "Peter. Tell me you're not out, in the middle of the city, on a school night, drinking alone, at _sixteen_."

Peter's silence is answer enough.

Tony groans and rubs his temples. This kid was going to be the death of him. "Hang tight. I'm on my way to pick you up now."

"Oh, no, no, no Mr Stark, I just need you to call an Uber!" But Tony has already ended the call and is headed downstairs.

* * *

When Tony pulls up, Peter is sitting on the curb outside of a now-closed office building, swirling a water jug full of, well, what _looks_ like water.

He clambers into the car without speaking and they're two only blocks in before Peter slowly presses a hand against his mouth.

"If you need to throw up, you'd _better_ do it out the window."

Peter takes a deep breath and puts his hands in his lap again. "I'm fine."

"Don't close your eyes," Tony warns. "You'll feel like you're falling and throw up in a second."

"Found that out the hard way."

"Jesus, kid, just how drunk did you get?"

Peter's face twists, even this inebriated knowing that he should _maybe _stop talking, but he's emboldened now and can't help it. "See… it's not _just_ alcohol?"

Tony stomps on the brakes, in the middle of a busy Manhattan street, and cabs roll down their windows to curse at him as they swerve around the car.

"Tell me it was just weed and not cocaine or something." Peter's never seen Tony look quite so menacing before, not even in battle, and Tony feels like a bull about to charge.

"Oh God, I'm so going to be fired for this, aren't I?"

"Do I need to bring you to the hospital?" Already, Tony has his blinker on and is preparing to make a U turn towards the ER.

"No! No, it's… just weed."

Tony takes a deep breath and resumes driving back to the tower. "Okay." He wasn't happy about it, but it's not going to kill anybody.

Neither of them say a word until they've arrived and Peter stumbles out of the car and into the tower's elevator alongside Tony.

"Are you firing me?" Peter whispers.

Tony doesn't answer, and with each second that passes, Peter shrinks in on himself more and more. To his surprise, though, he takes Peter not up to the floor with the lab and the couch, but up to the top floor… the one with the bar.

"Mr. Stark?"

"Hold up, kid," he answers, pouring a series of shots. "You gotta let me catch up to you first. How drunk do I need to get to do that?"

"Um." Peter is dumbfounded. "Well, I'm seeing two of you right now. Does that answer it? Is there a standard unit of drunkenness I should be using?"

Tony chuckles under his breath as he downs the first two. "No, that answers my question just fine… is that vodka?" He asks, nodding towards Peter's water jug.

"Uh… Yeah. I mean yes sir."

"Here." Tony slides a glass of something brown Peter's way. "If you're going to drink, I'm not letting you drink straight vodka." His face twists at the mere thought. "Seriously. Have some class."

Peter takes the glass tentatively, not trusting it, and takes a small sip. It's sweet and… almost spicy, and he takes another sip. They continue like that in silence, Peter slowly sipping while Tony downs shots until... well. Peter wasn't quite sure. It has to be something like twenty minutes before either of them say anything more, but time is a bit of a muddled mess for Peter right now.

"Alright." Tony finally says, taking a deep breath. "I can feel it hitting. Let's talk."

Peter groans but certainly doesn't have the standing right now to refuse.

"Why are you drinking alone on a school night?"

Peter looks down at the floor and shrugs, much to Tony's annoyance.

"C'mon, kid. You've gotta give me something here. Do you understand how bad this all _reeks_ of unhealthy coping mechanisms?"

"I actually don't know!" Peter yells, and then cringes at the sound. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just… I had fun last time, and I dunno. It was… just something… _else _to do."

Tony is listening intently. "As opposed to what?"

Another shrug. "School. Patrol. _Thinking_… just… everything, I guess."

Tony thinks for a moment. "If you need some time off as Spider-Man."

"No." Peter's eyes go wide and he grasps the cup so hard that Tony's worried it might just shatter in his hand.

"Okay." Tony puts his hands up. "It was just an idea. But uh…" Even as the alcohol creeps into his system, it's hard for Tony to get too touchy-feely. "It… sounds like you're trying to run from some things."

"Sorry," Peter says. "I know it's all stupid. There's nothing really for me even to run from."

Tony stares at him. Is… is he serious? His parents? His uncle being shot dead in front of him? Vulture? Almost dying himself? _Actually _dying himself in the snap?

Peter continues to ramble "Especially after everything the rest of you have been through…" he shakes his head. "I shouldn't crack under this little. That's... not what people like us are supposed to do."

Tony isn't even sure what to say, and the words tumble out almost without his permission. "Did you know I get panic attacks?"

"What?"

Tony nods. "Bruce tried to kill himself. A few times actually. God knows Steve is still struggling to adjust to the 21st century. Wanda still loses it from time to time when she has flashbacks of vision being killed… and killing him herself. Natasha has some issues, too. Dunno what they are, though, just that they exist and that she had to have a heart to heart with Bruce. She won't tell me."

"I… I don't know what to say… I'm sorry," Peter says.

Tony shrugs. "It is what it is. We all get a little messed up in this profession. No way to avoid that."

They lapse into another silence, both contemplating. "So... you're saying that I need to get used to this? That this will just become normal?"

"What? No! God no." Tony sighs. "I'm saying that you've been through a lot. And that you're past the point of being able to handle it on your own."

Peter begins to protest, but Tony stops him with a pointed glare. "So here's my deal: you can keep your internship if you start going to therapy. Once a week. On the house."

Peter shoots him a look and it's clear that he's not sold on the idea, but he relents. Anything to stay Spider-Man. "Fine."

"Good. Now get to bed. And this time, I'm serious. Don't let it happen again."

Peter nods and turns towards the elevators, happy to finally be free of his… rather emotional interrogation.

"Oh," Tony calls out. "And from now on? Expect random drug tests."

**a/n: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you enjoyed! Reading feedback really makes my day.**


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